


If You Forget Me

by paellaplease



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Great Escape, Language Barrier, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison Pals, Slow Burn, Swearing, To Measure My Abilities, Why Did I Write This?, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-13 08:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paellaplease/pseuds/paellaplease
Summary: Memory loss is already a terrible and inconvenient thing, but winding up in a dark cell with no idea who you are and why you're there is downright annoying.She was content with going with the flow and seeing where all the tests and useless questioning would eventually lead to. After all, what else could she do?Until meeting the man with the scarf threw everything out the window.
Relationships: Sarutobi Konohamaru/Original Female Character(s), Sarutobi Konohamaru/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sick with a fever, watched some episodes of Boruto in a state of inspired delirium, and now Adult!Konohamaru owns my ass. 
> 
> I don't own Boruto/Naruto. But I do own this story. Hope you enjoy!

Imagine waking up from the best sleep you’ve had in years. A dreamless kind of unconsciousness that left you happy and well-rested the next day with a pep in your step and the sun shining out of your ass. 

Except instead of a nice room with a double-bed and a picture window, or a warm tent with sunlight streaming through the edges, it was a dark and damp prison cell with some terrible air circulation. It was the type of place that carried the same kind of stale smell you would expect of someone who’d just died, and the best part, someone probably did. 

All things considered, there were worse places to wake up. 

The company could use some work though. 

Gasping from having the wind knocked out of her, she braced herself again as one of the guards threw another punch. The blow landed against her cheek, strong enough to make her black-out for a second but angled in such a way that it didn't knock any teeth_._ _Lucky. _

Wincing, she opened her good eye and grinned with a reddened mouth. “Hey man, I’m hoping to save some of those pearly whites for the adult tooth fairy.”

That earned her another strike to the stomach. 

She immediately snapped her mouth shut from the pain, accidentally biting on her tongue and drawing blood. Spitting it out, her two interrogators paused in their ‘questioning’ to watch as the globule of wet blood hit the dusty ground with a dull splatter. 

The woman huffed, her vision blurring as her surroundings began to twist and spin. She quickly caught herself before she tipped forward, blinking rapidly to clear away the fog that had built up in her periphery. 

“My eyes are up here, gentlemen.” She said, leaning back into the wooden chair. Her hands were bound behind her, thick ropes chafing her wrists raw. 

_ “Urusai!”  _ Asshole number one with the glasses shouted. 

“Sorry Specs, still have no clue what you’re saying.” 

There was probably a reason why she was here. Money troubles? Tax-fraud? Flirting with the wrong side of the law? She didn’t know. In fact, following that question she would also like to know where she was, who these people are, and the nearest person who knew her address. Upon waking she was filled with that lovely disorientation you would get from floating in a blissful void for a few hours. Except that feeling never really went away and she was befuddled to the point that she couldn’t even recognise her own cracked reflection in the glass of the prison’s crappy bathroom before she was hosed down like a weak fire. 

She didn’t even know her own name. 

It was a very confusing afternoon.

Specs’ face scrunched up and shook the same way a dog’s would after eating a sour lemon. He lunged once more, Bandana behind him finally gaining the sense to hold his equally crazy comrade back. He yelled a few more choice words at her, and she recognised them to be part of the many that had been ejected at her recently. Words like  _ usotsuki _ and  _ kesu,  _ or along the lines of that sort. They were all blending together, really. 

_ “Orokana engi o yameru!” _

Bandana yelped as Specs elbowed him in the gut, letting the rabid prison guard go. Already feeling as if she had nothing left to lose, she turned to glare at the bespectacled man, silently daring him to get the winning KO in already. She blinked, instantly regretting it. What she saw next was a manic smile, a muscled arm, and a flying fist heading straight towards her. 

The heavy cell-door behind them slammed open with a crash.  _ “Yamada-san.”  _ A gravelly voice echoed in the dark chamber. 

Specs halted in his attack, his fist inches from her nose. It was close enough that she could see the dried flecks of blood coming off his knuckles from their previous one-sided tussle. He immediately withdrew and about-faced, bowing to the mysterious figure at the door as Bandana did the same. 

She looked up, squinting in the dim light to see who was there. 

It was a woman, dressed in a neat pinstripe suit with hair that flowed like a crimson river to her waist. Adjusting her cufflinks, she spoke to the two men in a disinterested tone. Her voice was  _ grating, _ cutting and rough like she gargled rocks before bed then smoked fifty packs by the time her head hit the pillow. 

A tense, untranslatable conversation ensued. Unable to understand, she decided to bring her focus to the entourage behind the Boss, noting a lot of burly men and women by the front, and some spindly looking shifty types at the back. Like Specs and Bandana, and minus Boss, all of them wore silver plated headbands on their foreheads, engraved with a symbol she couldn’t recognise. There was also a man with a sack over his head. 

_ Someone obviously didn’t get the memo.  _

Boss snapped her perfectly manicured fingers, a burly man with a scar on his eye pushing the man with the potato sack to the front of the group. The pair began to walk towards her. As they neared, she noticed that the man’s hands were bound with a strange cuff that glowed blue with a low hum. As they neared she could just see the translucent tendrils growing from the metal, reaching into his arms to sap away an unseen energy underneath.

The guard kicked the man’s legs from under him, forcing him to kneel at her feet. She tried to inch away, then remembered that the chair she was tied to was bolted into the floor.

_ “Konoha kuzu.”  _ Muscle spat, reaching forward to forcefully yank the bag off the man’s head. 

The acidic panic bubbling in her gut clawed its way up to her throat, and she bit her lip in an attempt to calm her speeding heart. The room swam, the mud on the walls and blood on the floor all coalescing to become nothing but background noise and chatter as all she could suddenly think of in that moment was  _ Blue. _

She blinked.

_ His eyes are blue. _

He stared back at her. His face was heavily bruised, almost as bruised as hers, littered with cuts and scratches as if he’d had a dozen knives thrown at him and he’d dodged them all by a hair each time. Speaking about hair, his was brown, messily sticking up and held back by a headband. It was almost like the forehead protector worn by most of the people in the room, except the symbol on his was different. A swirling arrow pointing to who knows where. 

_ Wait. Forehead protector? _

Muscle roughly grabbed the scarf tied around the prisoner’s neck, making the man gag. He dragged him forward, closer to her. Quickly, she shut her eyes and turned away, only to open them again when Specs grabbed her hair and forced her gaze back to the prisoner.

“Who are you?” She whispered to him, desperate, praying that despite the odds he understood her and could tell her what exactly was going on. His gaze, once glassy with fatigue, snapped into keen focus when she spoke. A single tear fell from one of her eyes, making a trail on her dirt caked face. “Please,” she begged him, her previous mask of pseudo-confidence wavering. “Please, help me.” 

His blue eyes widened. 

_ “Kessei.”  _ Boss ordered.

Muscle made a sign with his hand, three complete identical copies of him suddenly appearing by his side in a puff of smoke. Before she had time to fully process  _ that,  _ they ran at her and held her back. One was stationed at each arm and another at her neck, further restraining her to the chair.  _ What is going on?! _

Boss took what looked to be a wooden rectangular box from her inner pocket. 

Bandana walked forward, blocking her view when the case was snapped open. She didn’t have to wonder for too long however as he immediately turned around, a syringe with the thickest needle she’d ever seen resting in his hand. It was primed and prepared with a bright green liquid, bound to make this already shit day a terrible one.

“Bandana, buddy!” She tried, squirming in fear and causing Muscle #1, #2, and #3’s hold to tighten. “What’s with that vaccine you got there? You do know I’m up to date with all my shots so that won’t be necessary.” 

Bandana continued to walk towards her, slow, almost predatory. Adrenaline kicking in, her breaths began to increase. They became shallow, panicked. Unable to move her head away, her eyes flicked around the room in search of an exit, only for her to regret it as she caught sight of Specs’ stupid, sadistic smile. 

Out of options, she looked down at Blue, eyes blurring as he stared back at her, silent. His mouth was set in a firm line, expression indicating no fear nor bravery, just _ , nothing.  _ “Please,” she repeated. “Hel...p.” His mouth tightened, and her hyperfocus picked up the sound of his quiet exhale. 

The needle in her forearm stung, biting like a snake. She gasped, reeling back a yell of pain. Inhaling sharply, she held her breath, only letting go when the needle was finally withdrawn ten seconds later. 

Everything felt numb. 

Things were...odd. Her eyes began to roll into the back of her head, focusing and refocusing to the man in front of her. The man. The man the man the man. 

Above her, the lamp light flickered. 

It suddenly felt very difficult to breathe, as if she’d been tossed into the ocean still strapped to her wooden chair and left to drown. She coughed, opening and closing her eyes, struggling to clear the returning fog in her head but to no avail. 

She looked at him. Looked at Blue. She wondered what his real name was. Wondered if he was as confused as she was, and if he too had a great sleep before winding up in this shithole. 

She opened her mouth to ask him all these questions but never got the chance as a flat hand was slammed into her neck, cutting the lights. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the language inaccuracies. Most of the Japanese is straight from Google Translate. If there are any corrections to make, feel free to comment below or PM me. I would greatly appreciate the help. 
> 
> Urusai - Shut up  
Usotsuki - Liar  
Kesu - Erase  
"Orokana engi o yameru!" - "Stop acting stupid!"  
"Konoha kuzu." - "Konoha scum."  
Kessei - Serum


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you gatesgates for leaving such a sweet comment and bookmark. And thank you Moogen for the bookmark and kudos! A big love-heart to all the guests lurking as well. 
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading and enjoy!

We forget things all the time. It’s troublesome and awkward, but unfortunately part of what makes you human. Your keys, your best friend’s address, an important anniversary. From a physical object to an intangible idea, all can potentially be lost to the vast wasteland that is the brain’s fickle hippocampus. 

The funny thing with forgetting however is that sometimes you don’t even know you had until much later. Instead, you continue your day blissfully unaware. Going about your business until you finally trigger that annoying sixth sense. A feeling, a heavy suspicion, dropping like a rock all the way into your stomach, telling you that whilst nothing is certain, something is certainly not right. 

Call her pessimistic, but she had a bad feeling about this.

She groaned, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. The sheet covering her had been pulled all the way up to her chin again. It practically swamped her, the rough texture reminding her more of a thin rug than an actual blanket. But overall she didn’t mind it_._ The prison cell was freezing as there was no natural light to enter and warm the room during the morning, making for some seriously frigid nights. 

Carefully, she sat up, peeling away the large cloth that had been there since day one, letting it pool to the side. Running a hand over her face, she began the daily ritual of taking stock of her injuries. She noticed that the worst of the cuts and bruises were gone, leaving an overall dull ache that was more low-level migraine than the full on concussion she was expecting. Shifting, she felt the bandages that had been placed over her ribs two days ago move, a reminder from when Bandana got tired of playing good cop and decided he wanted in on the fun as well. 

Next to her was a concrete wall, blank and empty, save for the fourteen lines scratched onto its surface. “Damn it,” she said, reaching for one of the more pointed pebbles scattered on the floor and drawing in another one. “Still here.”

It had been like this everyday. Wake up, try to remember one thing about herself,  _ one thing _ , fail, get escorted to a lab, get poked and prodded by a bunch of weirdos in white coats, sit in a chair with a dumb helmet for an hour. Then it was a toss up between a scientific test, which she felt had been testing her patience rather than her physical condition, or torture. 

_ I mean, interrogation. But let's be real. _

“Then somewhere in between I end up back here, have my meal, and boom- it’s the end of the day. Time sure flies when you can’t see the sun.” The pebble in her hand was quickly discarded, hitting the bars separating her cell from the next with a loud  _ clang. _

The click of several locks echoed throughout the chamber, signalling the opening of the main door with a rusted squeal. A guard walked into the room, a tray of food balanced in one hand and something large and heavy gripped in the other. He dragged it along with him with an annoyed grunt. 

Grabbing the keys at his hip, Mask unlocked her door. Unceremoniously, he deposited the tray at the entrance before slamming the door shut, lock engaging once more. She couldn’t see his expression due to the entirety of his nose and mouth being covered with a red cloth, but she could easily imagine the unamused frown on his face. 

“Thanks, Asshole.”

Mask grunted in acknowledgement. 

Cautiously, she stepped off the bed, bare feet padding to the tray at her cell’s door. _What a surprise_. It was the same thing she always had. Yet, she had to admit that things could be worse. The bread was stale and sometimes mouldy, but the soup was surprisingly good. They also gave her a tall jug of water_._ _To keep the phlebotomists probing at my veins happy, I guess._

Absentmindedly, she reached up to scratch at the large bandage over her cheek, snapping her hand back when she heard Mask yell at her. “Alright, alright!” She sulked. Fair for him to be pissed, she gathered. It was his work after all. 

“You know you wouldn’t have to keep putting me back together all the time if you told your friends to relax for a moment.” 

Mask mumbled something. 

“What was that?” she called out. 

_ “Shaberu na.”  _

“Well, you too!”

The door to the cell next to her slammed open, causing her to look up in surprise. 

With little care, Mask dragged the unknown weight in his hand across the floor and into the corner, leaving the figure slumped to the side as he turned his back to him and left. Another  _ clang _ resounded as the cell doors were slid shut.

Before he left, Mask called out to her. He pointed to her cheek, then to her ribs.  _ "Bakanakoto o shinaide kudasai," _ he said, and promptly left.  _ Wow, real helpful _ . 

Once the sound of Mask’s retreating footsteps disappeared, the unknown figure groaned, turning to his side and revealing a dirtied scarf and tangled brown hair. 

_ I can’t believe it.  _

“Blue!” She gasped. “They kept you alive!”

Hastily, she stood up, picking up her tray and bringing it to the bars between both their cells. Filled with renewed energy at the familiar face, she sat on the dirt floor once more, picking up the tough piece of bread and gnawing on it. “Hey you’re okay! Or well, not really okay, but you’re here!” 

He didn’t reply, choosing instead to gingerly pick himself off the ground. The glowing handcuffs once binding his wrists were gone, leaving his arms free to prop him up. Slowly, Blue maneuvered himself to lean his back against the wall, taking a few steady breaths before clutching his side in pain.

Then, he went very still.

At a loss, she nervously began wringing her hands. “Uh, Blue?” There was no response. “Do you want some of my bread and soup? It’s pretty decent all things considered, and I’m certain they haven’t given you something to eat since you got here." He didn't even twitch. 

"Blue," she said, standing up now. The area smelled like death for a reason; people obviously didn’t survive for long down here. Though the thought of him not sticking it out for a little longer, now that he’d made it this far was just... _ No, that’s not happening.  _ Bending down, she grabbed another smooth pebble from the ground and without a second thought-- threw it, aiming to lightly tap his shoulder. 

A hand shot out, catching the rock in mid air. Blue’s head tilted up, ocean eyes glaring at her.

_ Eek! _

She held both her hands up. "Sorry, sorry! I thought you were dead for a second there."

He didn't reply, giving her a warning look before he lowered his fist. He closed his eyes again, leaning against the wall and settling once more into his previous meditative state. 

Getting the message, she silently finished her food and headed back to her bed, drawing the covers around her. Counting her breaths, she settled in for a light sleep, lamenting that whilst Blue may not talk now, these people were going to make him speak eventually. 

She only hoped he says the right thing when the time comes. 

The next morning, as they were picking apart her brain with their dumb helmet and machine, she saw the Boss again. Whilst she was too far for her to hear, from the angle of her seat she could see that she was chatting with a bunch of scientists, red hair standing out like a wildfire amongst the sterile whites and greys of the lab. She looked to be enjoying herself, laughing along to some of their jokes and leaning back against the bench in a show of casual repose.

A light-haired scientist, one of the more attractive of the bunch, decided to take a chance and put his hand on her shoulder. She watched with bated breath as the woman in the suit stiffened, turning to the silver-haired man with a polite smile on her face. Unperturbed, she brushed off the hand with a little pat and wink, turning to survey the items on the desk behind her.

Seeing something she liked, Boss grabbed one of the many colourful pens splayed across the table. Uncapping it, she jauntily twirled it in the air, getting a few spins in before stabbing it into the scientist’s hand. Hard. 

There was screaming. Lots of screaming. 

Everyone's attention snapped to the scene unfolding. Boss raised her voice, expression pissed. A clipped, angry speech followed which she gathered meant something like "Hurry up and produce results." Or "Pizza Night is no longer happening." It was probably the former. 

A few guards and a medic escorted the wounded scientist out the back, whilst Boss took her leave with her entourage. Her heels clicked as she exited out the main entrance, a flurry of activity following behind her.

"Then, they made me take these colourful pills and do a bunch of laps," she said to her sole audience. Blue looked at her blankly. "Nothing happened though. I felt a  _ little  _ bit funny, but my memory is still crap. That's my theory at least. They probably saw me and thought, 'Wow, I've never seen someone with such a terrible memory before', and decided to kidnap me and do all sorts of tests to harness the power of my selective dementia."

Blue huffed, shaking his head at her as she gesticulated wildly in the air.

Not too long after she got back, they took him out for questioning. She watched helplessly as they walked him out of the room, the man attempting to overpower the guard at the door before a knife was pressed to his neck, silencing all protests. 

Apprehensively, she paced the length of her cell, waiting for him to return. "I'm not attached," she said aloud to no one, "I'm just concerned." Forming friendships in this place was a big no-no. Your days were numbered and these scientists were not above using people to prompt a reaction out of you.

However, with the passage of time, she couldn't help but feel worried. 

Blue arrived hours later, unceremoniously dumped into his cell by an unknown guard. He was covered in bruises, a large one blooming just above his eye. She looked around, waiting for a medic to appear. Anyone, even Mask, but no one ever arrived. 

She spent the night watching out for him, only succumbing to sleep when he finally managed to sit up. 

The next few moons passed in a similar fashion. Her, regaling to Blue the woes of her current day ("They made me do thirty push-ups today! Can you believe it? In this economy?"). Him, being brutally questioned on some days, and left alone on others. Even with her continuous coaxing, he never spoke to her, not once.

Well, at least they both received food now. 

It was on the sixth consecutive lab test that she felt the tone of experiments suddenly change. The session started out simple and benign. They led her to another featureless room, the only decoration being the four yellow lines painted on the ground to resemble an empty square. 

She didn’t need a crazy IQ to figure out that these were the borders of which she’d be cordoned to for the majority of the session. As she sat there, cross-legged, she wondered what they would do next.

_ I’m thinking, pointless physical exercises. Sit-stand? Jog in place? Nah, they’re going to make me unlock the heights of my creativity by doing as many poses as I can in this stupid square. _

_ Or maybe some psychological endurance? Hah! Can’t be worse than when they blared that white-noise rubbish and told me I couldn’t leave for another hour. Now  _ that  _ was worse than torture.  _

She crossed her arms, bouncing her legs up and down in a show of jittery impatience. “What’s the big idea, Suits? Is it sensory deprivation day again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose feeling in my ass the more I sit here.” 

A hatch in the ground in front of her snapped open, making her bite back a scream of surprise. She watched-- scared, attentive and a little bit curious, as a small, white creature with red eyes crawled out.

It was a rabbit. 

She could feel the anxiety gripping her heart immediately drain away, her bones feeling like overcooked noodles. “Hey little one,” she said in her softest voice, “what are you doing here?” 

The rabbit wiggled its nose, hopping towards her to sniff her outreached hand. “Sorry, no bread for you today buddy. I didn’t know I was meeting you today, so I’m quite unprepared.” This didn’t seem to deter it, as it advanced further and settled as a snowy heap in her lap. 

She frowned.  _ What kind of test is this?  _

Carefully, she ran a finger down its back, noticing how soft its fur was. Like a cloud, or a subtle homely warmth that she couldn’t quite explain. It was pulling at the threads of her brain that even she couldn’t latch herself onto, trying to make her remember something she had long forgotten. Was there a house? A cabin? A stream or a lake. She couldn’t pin the errant string in place. 

Almost like muscle memory, she gently picked up the rabbit, supporting its back and hindquarters and soothed it as she lifted it off the ground. The creature started to shake.  _ Cover his eyes,  _ a small voice in her head told her. So she did, covering it with crook of her arm.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that, enjoying her small pocket of peace. The friend she held in her arms was warm and innocent. It had no idea what they’d done to her, yet had deemed her safe enough to be vulnerable in her presence. The oppressing blankness of the room around her seemed to push in less as she held the little life close to her chest. 

She could feel its quick heart beat underneath her hands.  _ Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. _

Leaning forward, she whispered close to its ear, “I’m going to keep you safe, alright.”

The main entrance doors were thrown open, startling her. The creature in her arms began to shake again. She attempted to shoosh it, but to no avail. It continued to turn and scratch, struggling to free itself and jump out of her arms. 

A scientist approached her.  _ “Sore o oku.”  _ He ordered her, gesturing to the rabbit, then to the floor. 

“No.” She said, holding the panicking creature closer to her chest.

The scientist sighed, calling one of the guards. It was Muscle. The towering chunk of meat shoved her, hard.  _ “Sore o oku.”  _ The scientist repeated. 

“No!” She cried, flinching as Muscle slapped the side of her face, momentarily making her see stars. She dropped the rabbit in her hand, who hopped only a few feet away from her, still staying within the confines of the yellow borders.

_ Schwing!  _ She heard the sound of a knife being drawn. Opening her eyes, she had enough time to watch Muscle flip the leaf-shaped blade in the air, catching it expertly by hooking a finger into the ring at the end of its pommel. 

He handed it to her. _ “Korosu.”  _

“What?” She looked at the knife, then to the rabbit, heart racing as she put two and two together.  _ “Fuck _ no.”

Muscle kicked her in the gut, making her keel over in pain. _ “Korosu!”  _ He yelled, throwing the blade which clattered noisily in front of her. She gasped, feeling a throbbing pain in the area where Mask had just healed earlier before. She bit her lip, drawing blood to stop her from giving them the satisfaction of hearing her cry. 

She saw the scientist gesture to Muscle again, who prepared to swing another kick. Quickly, she raised a hand up, grabbing the knife from the ground. Everyone froze. 

Her breaths came out ragged as she held the sharpened blade between her two shaking hands, teeth clattering as she stared at the rabbit three feet away. It wiggled its nose at her again, unknown to the inner conflict raging in her head. 

_ I don’t want to kill it, I don’t want to kill it. _

_ They’re going to hurt you again if you don’t, they’re going to make you suffer.  _

She weakly shuffled towards the rabbit, arms raised. It looked at her, emotions difficult to ascertain behind its red eyes. Its nose twitched. She blinked. No fear nor bravery, just nothing, reminding her of- 

She threw the knife. 

The blade spun and soared through the air, thrown with as much anger and malice that she could muster in her hungry, tired body. It moved, a lethal weapon heading straight towards the beating heart of her target. A target who looked at her in the eye and bared his teeth in realisation. 

Muscle caught the knife with ease. 

Wasting no time, he used the blade to carve a painful gash on her forehead, flesh splitting and blood pouring from the wound in an instant. She cried out, clutching her head. He then turned to the hilt, stalking towards her threateningly as she crawled away, her dripping wound leaving a red trail in her wake. The sound of several chairs squeaking alerted her that a few scientists were running into the testing room to intervene. 

Her hands met something soft. The rabbit hiccuped behind her, nudging her back with its nose. 

Heart stuttering, she stopped backing away. The scientists weren’t going to make it.

Muscle swung, solid metal knocking her out cold before she could even finish her scream.

She lapsed in and out of consciousness as they threw her back into her cell. Her guards engaged the lock, leaving her with nothing but a cloth to slow the bleeding from her busted head. Coincidentally, the doors to the cage next to her opened as well, Blue being similarly manhandled as they roughly deposited him back inside. 

After the main doors slammed shut and the sound of footsteps gradually disappeared, he groaned and coughed, clutching his stomach where a dark patch began to appear. Feeling hopeless, she closed her eyes, knowing Mask would be stopped from seeing either of them thanks to her actions on the floor that afternoon. 

But Blue wasn’t finished just yet.

Working quickly, he unknotted his scarf, placing it in a pile on his lap as he moved on to unbuckling the clasps of his green army vest. The material was thick and heavy, and his shoulders sagged in relief once it was off. Underneath it, the torso of his dark shirt was almost completely soaked. From blood or sweat, she wasn’t sure. Lifting his scarf, he hastily bit into it, leaning back against the wall and taking several deep, full breaths. 

What he did next completely shocked her. 

With both hands, he made a series of different signs, one more complex than the other, transitioning faster than she could process. On the fifth, he pressed his two flat palms together, hands coming away and glowing a brilliant, bright green. 

The feeling of seeing it was...indescribable. It filled the darkness between both their cells in an emerald haze, illuminating the cell walls and casting an almost godly halo around his body in the corner. Yet, in this light he didn’t seem broken, or even weak. He looked determined, strong. Like a small ship that refused to bow in the midst of a raging typhoon. Blue lifted his shirt and pressed his glowing hands to the giant open wound on his abdomen, refusing to break. 

Slowly, the wound began to heal. Skin began to knit together, blood evaporating and hissing away. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone perform magic or miracles in this facility, but it would be one of the few she was happy to accept rather than dismiss as an elaborate hallucination that she’d developed to cope. 

Blue continued to work for several minutes, brows knitted together in concentration as he breathed through his nose, mouth still clamped around his scarf. Occasionally he would wince, stopping briefly to take a break, then recommenced the hand signs once more to continue. 

It was on the twenty minute mark that he finally finished. 

Coughing, he dropped his arms, closing his eyes and slumping down the wall. She checked the wound on his abdomen again, noticing that whilst it was still red and angry, it was no longer the same open and weeping mess it was a while ago. 

Her mouth dropped open in awe. He’d done it. Blue had powers and with them, he’d managed to heal himself. 

She crawled forward, minding her still actively bleeding forehead. “That was amazing!” She grinned. 

Shoulders rising and falling heavily in his fatigue, Blue opened an eye to look at her, holding her gaze for a moment. He surprised her again that day by reaching his hand out, waving it towards him in a motion that said, ‘come over here’. 

Cautiously, she did, moving towards the bars in the middle of the room as he did the same. Once they were close enough, he pointed to the gash on her forehead, silently asking to have a look at it. 

She nodded, instantly regretting it as another wave of pain washed over her. “Okay.” 

His fingers reached between the prison bars, gently parting hair away from her face and hooking the errant strands behind her ear. She felt the hairs at the back of her neck raise as he carefully traced the edges of the cut, keen eyes searching for something she couldn’t see. His other hand soon appeared, lightly tipping her head to the side to get a closer look. He swore under his breath.

“Not good?” She quipped nervously. 

Blue shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips to form the universal sign of “please be quiet.”

He brought his hands back to his chest, forming the same signs from before. They glowed green again, close enough this time that she could hear a low buzz in the air, like bees in a bustling hive. 

Reaching forward, he hovered a palm over her wound, cradling her head in his opposite hand as he worked to heal the gash that Muscle had inflicted. She winced, the initial stages stinging her skin like fingers dancing around a flickering flame. Keeping her tears at bay, she exhaled a gust of warm breath, counting up to sixty, then counting back down again. Blue held her firm in his hands, guiding her through the process until a calm energy washed over her, kissing her skin as waves would to the distant shore. From that point onwards the pain had dulled, and she could understand why he withstood the intense agony he must have been under not too long ago.

Unable to look up, she stared straight ahead instead, eyes focused on the lines of his chest as it rose and fell beneath his dark undershirt. She counted his breaths,  _ one, two, three,  _ willing her mind to stray against the creeping, cold sensation of flesh regenerating and pulling itself together like the seams of a torn shirt. 

Sitting with him, her tired mind wandered to the rabbit from before. To its large floppy ears and crimson eyes. To the feeling of its heartbeat in her hands. To the glint of Muscle’s knife, and the feeling of it sinking into her flesh. She’d been following orders up till that point. Why did she act out now? 

She stiffened as Blue’s thumb lightly stroked away a stray tear that fell from her eye. 

_ Because what they asked of me was wrong! _

_ They wanted to get a reaction out of you and that’s exactly what they achieved today. You will never win. _

Once Blue was finished, he didn’t immediately let her go, turning her head again for one final inspection. Her breath hitched, face warming under the attention of his careful scrutiny. He lightly patted the now sealed skin, nodding to himself with satisfaction at how well he’d done considering the circumstances. As the warmth of his fingers retreated, her eyes slid to capture his own, desperate to get a word in before he turned away again. “Thank you,” she said, completely sincere. 

The edges of Blue’s lips twitched, allowing a small smile to escape. She practically beamed back, his eyes at that moment brighter than any sun she could ever hope for. 

She scratched another line into her wall, placing the rock down and massaging her temples.  _ Twenty-one days. I've been here for nearly a month _ . She sunk into her mattress. 

After her poor performance at the last lab session, it was back to interrogation again with her two least favourite people. This time, Specs managed to land a nasty shiner on one of her eyes. 

For a moment, she panicked, thinking that this was it for her and her stellar depth perception. Yet, Mask had managed to pull another miracle out of his ass, taking away most of the pain and saving her eye-sight before it was too late. The technique he used whilst she was asleep must have been similar to Blue's healing powers from before, but she had no idea it had its applications beyond cuts, bruises and bones, completely repairing her eye. 

_ Clang! Clang! _

She rolled to the side, surprised to see that Blue had stood up, rapping at the bars with his knuckles to catch her attention. He pointed to her eye, _ “Daijōbu desu ka?” _

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, she gave him a shaky thumbs up, guessing what he meant. “Mhmm, yeah. I’m okay.”

He nodded, walking away and retaking his place at his self-designated corner. 

She turned to face the wall again, wondering what that was all about.

_ Wait.  _

Spinning back around so fast she nearly rolled off the bed, she narrowed her one good eye at him. “You can talk!” She exclaimed. He looked back at her blankly, probably having expected this reaction. “Why haven’t you said something this whole time?” 

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at her.  _ "Watashitachi no ryōhō no tame ni jūbun ni hanashimashita, korē.”  _ He said, crossing his arms. 

She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "Unbelievable. That tone was sarcastic? I'm guessing you're being sarcastic right now."

Blue exhaled sharply from his nose. He pointed to her, gesturing to her whole self.  _ "Nani ga dekiru ka shitte imasu ka?"  _

She lowered her hands, the fire in her eyes fading at the familiarity of his words. She looked at him in disappointment. "The amount of times that's been asked of me. The answer still stands: I'm sorry, I don't know."

They stared at each other for a moment, and she took the chance to get a clear look at him since the first day they met. The cuts and bruises had multiplied since then, and he was growing some stubble on his chin after being unable to shave recently, but the dark circles under his eyes were a new fixture. He looked exhausted. 

After all the beatings and being constantly dragged in holding on to an inch of his life, Blue always managed to put on a strong face. She admired that in him. His scarf was slightly muddy and caked in dirt, but he always wore his forehead protector and red armband with pride. Still, she was left in the dark as to the reasoning behind his presence here. As well as questioned the discrepancy between his treatment and her own. Yet, as she stared at the hypnotic whirlpool engraved on the stainless metal he held so dear, she realised that she may be closer to the answer than she originally thought.

Deciding on a course of action to take, she began to rip her blanket in two. Blue looked at her questiongly, watching as she finally made it to the end and had two regular sized blanket-rags at her disposal. 

“Here,” she said, walking towards the thick metal bars separating them. As she approached, she neatly shook out the long piece of cloth in her hand, attempting to fold it into a tight rectangle. Blue didn’t move from his spot, looking as confused as ever _ . _

“You gotta stay warm,” she said, miming herself shivering then pointing to him with an extended finger. Carefully, she fed the blanket through the bars, watching it fall into a heap on the other side. “Ah, well I tried to make it more presentable but points for effort right?” She tried to muster her brightest smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  _ This place really knows how to break your spirits.  _

Blue looked at the blanket, then at her, not making a move to stand up. 

Her expression fell. “Oh, that’s alright really. Take your time.” She rubbed her arms awkwardly, walking back to her bed.  _ He probably thinks I finally lost it.  _ “I’m going to try to sleep this injury off,” she muttered, more for her benefit than his. She turned to face the wall, pulling the other half of the blanket over her. “‘Night Blue.” 

Sleep claiming her, she didn’t notice the shinobi slowly approach. Picking up the blanket with care, he quietly draped the cloth around himself, noiselessly sinking back down to the floor. Leaning on the bars, he watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulders, somehow comforted by the quiet inhale and exhale of her breathing _ .  _

She was unusual, that was for sure. Though the mission briefings rarely specified the target’s personality, he was still shocked at how openly she trusted him from the beginning. Especially despite the language barrier. 

He shook his head, rerouting his thought process. Whilst it was always a possibility, it wasn’t his intention to get caught during the reconnaissance. The main goal now was to escape. He had to get back to the village, find the Hokage and relay the things he’d seen. 

Whether she was coming with him was up in the air. The woman was a liability, and the orders were to either take her with him, or neutralize her. Though it was obvious what the easier option was, he groaned, leaning his forehead on the bars. 

The latter wouldn’t have been so difficult if he didn’t already expend chakra to heal her. On that night, the moment his hands crossed the bars, he made a commitment. No, a  _ promise _ . An inherent part of her told her she could trust him, and he would make sure he didn’t betray that. 

He frowned, recalling the grateful look in her eyes when he was finished.  _ Always the bleeding heart, Konohamaru.  _ His priorities were a mess.  _ Some sensei I am.  _ He sighed, the thought creating a small ache in his chest. His mind strayed to his team, hoping that they were safe, wherever they were. 

Tightening the blanket around him, he shivered as the chill of the prison ran up his spine. “What would you do, Naruto-nii?” He said aloud. 

He watched as the woman muttered something unintelligible in her sleep, turning to sling an arm over the wooden platform. Her face was relaxed, and he could tell she slept deeply. It was foolish, dropping her guard in such a dangerous place, but he couldn’t fault her for the things she didn’t know. 

He remembered her refusal to hurt him on the day they met, and her vigilant watch the first time he returned after they tried to beat the living daylights out of him for information. She was kind-hearted. Those people never lasted long in situations like this.

The wound on her forehead looked less red and angry today, and he felt a small glow of pride at a job well done. Soon enough, despite the immense stress he was under, he found himself drifting in a rare state of peace.

  
_ “Arigatou.”  _ He whispered, his mind clearer than it had been for the past few days. _ “Konkai wa, osewa o shimasu.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the language inaccuracies. Most of the Japanese is straight from Google Translate. If there are any corrections to make, feel free to comment below or PM me. I would greatly appreciate the help.
> 
> Shaberu na. - Don't talk.  
"Bakanakoto o shinaide kudasai." - "Please, don't do anything stupid."  
Sore o oku. - Put it down.  
Korosu - Kill it
> 
> "Daijōbu desu ka?" - "Are you alright?"  
“Watashitachi no ryōhō no tame ni jūbun ni hanashimashita, korē.” - "You talked enough for the both of us, hey."  
"Nani ga dekiru ka shitte imasu ka?" - "Do you know what you're capable of?"
> 
> Arigatou - Thank you  
"Konkai wa, osewa o shimasu." - "This time, I'll look after you."


End file.
